Oh, Money! Money! Part 17

"Gos.h.!.+ that's so. Say, now, that's too bad!" There was genuine concern in Frank Blaisdell's voice.

"But why?" almost wept Mellicent.

Her mother sighed sympathetically.

"Poor Maggie! How she is left out--always!"

"But we can give her some of ours, mother,--we can give her some of ours," urged the girl.

"It isn't ours to give--yet," remarked her mother, a bit coldly.

"But, mother, you WILL do it," importuned Mellicent. "You've always said you would, if you had it to give."

"And I say it again, Mellicent. I shall never see her suffer, you may be sure,--if I have the money to relieve her. But--" She stopped abruptly at the sound of an excited voice down the hall. Miss Flora, evidently coming in through the kitchen, was hurrying toward them.

"Jane--Mellicent--where are you? Isn't anybody here? Mercy me!" she panted, as she reached the room and sank into a chair. "Did you ever hear anything like it in all your life? You had one, too, didn't you?"

she cried, her eyes falling on the letter in her brother's hand. "But 'tain't true, of course!"

Miss Flora wore no head-covering. She wore one glove (wrong side out), and was carrying the other one. Her dress, evidently donned hastily for the street, was unevenly fastened, showing the topmost b.u.t.ton without a b.u.t.tonhole.

"Mr. Smith says it's true," triumphed Mellicent.

"How does he know? Who told him 'twas true?" demanded Miss Flora.

So almost accusing was the look in her eyes that Mr. Smith actually blinked a little. He grew visibly confused.

"Why--er--ah--the letter speaks for itself Miss Flora," he stammered.

"But it CAN'T be true," reiterated Miss Flora. "The idea of a man I never saw giving me a hundred thousand dollars like that!--and Frank and Jim, too!"

"But he's your cousin--you said he was your cousin," Mr. Smith reminded her. "And you have his picture in your alb.u.m. You showed it to me."

"I know it. But, my sakes! I didn't know HE knew I was his cousin. I don't s'pose he's got MY picture in HIS alb.u.m! But how did he know about us? It's some other Flora Blaisdell, I tell you."

"There, I never thought of that," cried Jane. "It probably is some other Blaisdells. Well, anyhow, if it is, we won't have to pay that inheritance tax. We can save that much."

"Save! Well, what do we lose?" demanded her husband apoplectically.

At this moment the rattling of the front-door k.n.o.b and an imperative knocking brought Mrs. Jane to her feet.

"There's Hattie, now, and that door's locked," she cried, hurrying into the hall.

When she returned a moment later Harriet Blaisdell and Bessie were with her.

There was about Mrs. Harriet Blaisdell a new, indescribable air of commanding importance. To Mr. Smith she appeared to have grown inches taller.

"Well, I do hope, Jane, NOW you'll live in a decent place," she was saying, as they entered the room, "and not oblige your friends to climb up over a grocery store."

"Well, I guess you can stand the grocery store a few more days, Hattie,"

observed Frank Blaisdell dryly. "How long do you s'pose we'd live--any of us--if 'twa'n't for the grocery stores to feed us? Where's Jim?"

"Isn't he here? I told him I was coming here, and to come right over himself at once; that the very first thing we must have was a family conclave, just ourselves, you know, so as to plan what to give out to the public."

"Er--ah--" Mr. Smith was on his feet, looking somewhat embarra.s.sed; "perhaps, then, you would rather I were not present at the--er--family conclave."

"Nonsense!" shouted Frank Blaisdell.

"Why, you ARE one of the family, 'seems so," cried Mellicent.

"No, indeed, Mr. Smith, don't go," smiled Mrs. Hattie pleasantly.

"Besides, you are interested in what concerns us, I know--for the book; so, of course, you'll be interested in this legacy of dear Cousin Stanley's."

Mr. Smith collapsed suddenly behind his handkerchief, with one of the choking coughs to which he appeared to be somewhat addicted.

"Ain't you getting a little familiar with 'dear Cousin Stanley,'

Hattie?" drawled Frank Blaisdell.

Miss Flora leaned forward earnestly.

"But, Hattie, we were just sayin', 'fore you came, that it couldn't be true; that it must mean some other Blaisdells somewhere."

"Absurd!" scoffed Harriet. "There couldn't be any other Frank and Jim and Flora Blaisdell, in a Hillerton, too. Besides, Jim said over the telephone that that was one of the best law firms in Chicago. Don't you suppose they know what they're talking about? I'm sure, I think it's quite the expected thing that he should leave his money to his own people. Come, don't let's waste any more time over that. What we've got to decide is what to DO. First, Of course, we must order expensive mourning all around."

"Mourning!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed an amazed chorus.

"Oh, great Scott!" spluttered Mr. Smith, growing suddenly very red. "I never thought--" He stopped abruptly, his face almost purple.

But n.o.body was noticing Mr. Smith. Bessie Blaisdell had the floor.

"Why, mother, I look perfectly horrid in black, you know I do," she was wailing. "And there's the g.a.y.l.o.r.ds' dance just next week; and if I'm in mourning I can't go there, nor anywhere. What's the use in having all that money if we've got to shut ourselves up like that, and wear horrid stuffy black, and everything?"

"For shame, Bessie!" spoke up Miss Flora, with unusual sharpness for her. "I think your mother is just right. I'm sure the least we can do in return for this wonderful gift is to show our respect and appreciation by going into the very deepest black we can. I'm sure I'd be glad to."

"Wait!" Mrs. Harriet had drawn her brows together in deep thought. "I'm not sure, after all, that it would be best. The letter did not say that dear Cousin Stanley had died--he just hadn't been heard from. In that case, I don't think we ought to do it. And it would be too bad--that g.a.y.l.o.r.d dance is going to be the biggest thing of the season, and of course if we WERE in black--No; on the whole, I think we won't, Bessie.

Of course, in two years from now, when we get the rest, it will be different."

"When you--what?" It was a rather startled question from Mr. Smith.

"Oh, didn't you know? There's another letter to be opened in two years from now, disposing of the rest of the property. And he was worth millions, you know, millions!"

"But maybe he--er--Did it say you were to--to get those millions then?"

"Oh, no, it didn't SAY it, Mr. Smith." Mrs. Harriet Blaisdell's smile was a bit condescending. "But of course we will. We are his kinsmen. He said we were. He just didn't give it all now because he wanted to give himself two more years to come back in, I suppose. You know he's gone exploring. And, of course, if he hadn't come back by then, he would be dead. Then we'd get it all. Oh, yes, we shall get it, I'm sure."

"Oh-h!" Mr. Smith settled back in his chair. He looked somewhat nonplused.

"Humph! Well, I wouldn't spend them millions--till I'd got 'em, Hattie," advised her brother-in-law dryly.

"I wasn't intending to, Frank," she retorted with some dignity. "But that's neither here nor there. What we're concerned with now is what to do with what we have got. Even this will make a tremendous sensation in Hillerton. It ought to be written up, of course, for the papers, and by some one who knows. We want it done just right. Why, Frank, do you realize? We shall be rich--RICH--and all in a flash like this! I wonder what the Pennocks will say NOW about Mellicent's not having money enough for that precious son of theirs! Oh, I can hardly believe it yet And it'll mean--everything to us. Think what we can do for the children. Think--"